


"Can I kiss you?"

by Lavender_and_Vanilla



Series: Mystrade Monday Part 2: Flash Fiction [12]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Comfort, Don’t post to another site, Drunk Greg Lestrade, Early Mystrade, Fluff, M/M, Mystrade Monday, mystrade
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:14:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27097927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lavender_and_Vanilla/pseuds/Lavender_and_Vanilla
Summary: After a night out with the team Greg stumbles out of the pub and into Mycroft's car.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade, Mycroft Holmes/Lestrade
Series: Mystrade Monday Part 2: Flash Fiction [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1862299
Comments: 34
Kudos: 165





	"Can I kiss you?"

Greg stood on the street outside the pub feeling fine, rather fine indeed. Paperwork done, he’d the weekend off, and he’d started it right with a drink at local with his team. Well, may be more than one drink.

“G’night boss!” Sally called out as she headed down the street. “See you Monday!”

“Night Donovan!” Greg called back. He started down the street only to realize after a few blocks he’d headed the wrong way. Greg chuckled to himself. Perhaps he’d was more snockered than he thought.

He turned around to see a black sedan pull along side of him. The back window rolled down and Greg caught a glimpse of a familiar profile.

“Hullo Mycroft! Whatcha’ doin’ out so late?” Greg leaned into the window, smiling.

“I might ask the same of you.”

“Been to the pub, I’ve been.”

“Mm… I see.”

“And you?”

“No, I’ve not been to the pub.”

“Shame. Can’t go now. It’s after last call.”

“You don’t say.” Mycroft replied.

Greg nodded. “Right. Best be off.” Greg started to back away from the car, but Mycroft called him back.

“Would you like a ride home?”

“Ta! Tha’d be nice.” Greg opened the back door and piled in next to Mycroft. The car started moving on Mycroft’s signal and Greg sighed. “This is nice.” He stroked the leather upholstery. Greg stole a glance at Mycroft. “You’re nice,” he said slyly.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at Greg. “I’m hardly nice.”

“Oh, yes y’are. At least you’re nice to me,” Greg replied cheerfully. “Giving me a ride home, for instance.”

“Well, it’s in no one’s interest to have London’s finest wandering drunk about the city streets,” Mycroft sniffed.

“Y’are nice other ways too.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You send me coffee and bacon sarnies in the morning, after a long night.” Mycroft opened his mouth to deny it. “Ah, don’t deny it.” Greg wagged a finger.

“Well…” Mycroft’s cheeks seemed to be a tad flushed.

“And then there was the time Sherlock broke my office chair. Got me a new one, a better one, in less than a day.”

“I only sped the paperwork along.”

Greg shook his head. He leaned close to Mycroft’s ear. “I think you might like me, a bit.” Greg sat back and nodded sagely.

Mycroft bit back a smile. “You’ve caught me out,” Mycroft replied. “I do indeed like you. But only a bit.”

“I knew it!” Greg crowed, then looked aghast at having raised his voice. He clapped his hand over his mouth. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

Mycroft shook his head, but didn’t actually look particularly disapproving. The car rolled to a stop in front of Greg’s building. Mycroft got out and came around to Greg’s side. He opened the door to see Greg fumbling with his seat belt.

“Let me.” Mycroft leaned over Greg and unbuckled the belt.

“You smell nice,” Greg commented.

“Yes, well, you smell like stale lager and cigarettes.”

“Is that nice?”

“No, not particularly.” Mycroft gently helped Greg from the car. Greg wobbled as he stood and Mycroft caught his elbow. “Steady,” he warned.

“Sorry, I’m thinker then I drunk I am.” Greg paused. “Or something.”

Mycroft chuckled. “Come along.” He guided Greg up the walk and assisted with the front door.

Greg swayed against Mycroft as they waited for the lift. Mycroft kept a hand on Greg’s elbow as they made their way down the hall to Greg’s door. He took the keys from Greg and opened the door.

“Thanks Mycroft,” Greg slurred. His eyes were glazed and unfocused.

“If you don’t mind, I’ll come in and see you settled.”

“Okay.” Greg wandered into his apartment with Mycroft following.

“Why don’t you get ready for bed? I’ll get you some water and paracetamol,” Mycroft directed.

Greg made his way to his bedroom and managed to get undressed without falling on his face. He even remembered to brush his teeth. He’d just climbed into bed when Mycroft arrived with water and the pain killers he promised.

“Now take these and drink this.” Mycroft handed over the tabs and water. “Finish it and I’ll get you more water.”

“Yes, My,” Greg said meekly.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow, but didn’t remark on the pet name.

Greg snuggled down in the bed, sleepily blinking at Mycroft. “My?”

“Yes.” Mycroft collected the glass to refill.

“Can I kiss you?”

Mycroft smiled softly at Greg. “Do you think that’s wise?”

“No,” Greg pouted. “But I wanna.”

“Another time,” Mycroft gently suggested.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Okay.” Greg yawned and curled up on his side. “G’night My,” he mumbled.

“Good night Gregory.”

When Mycroft returned with a fresh glass of water, Greg was asleep. He set the glass down and leaned over, placing a gentle kiss on Greg’s forehead. He turned away, heading out of the bedroom and the flat. He missed seeing the smile steal over Greg’s face.


End file.
